Glimpses
by Arazadia
Summary: Vignettes about what I imagined the life of Lex and Lana would look like. AU future.
1. Chapter 1

A series of vignettes about Lex and Lana, a few years after the current season we're in.

Hail to weird 'ships! These are glimpses, so don't except lots of cohesiveness.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer

--WB Yeats

I.

"I want you to leave him alone," she said firmly, wishing she were five inches taller and oceans braver. It was hard to stand before him, head up in the air as if she hadn't a care in the world or a single worry concerning the imposing figure behind the mahogany desk.

"Is this Lana Lang's dramatic stand?" he chuckled, amused as he always was by the slight girl in front of him. The mutinous expression on her face and the very idea of Lana protecting his ruthless son was the sort of delicious perversity that never failed to entertain Lionel. A former cheerleader from rural Kansas… he would never have guessed his son's tastes would run to the banal in the end. The ostentatious sapphire ring and platinum band glittering on the young woman's finger proved just how wrong that belief had been.

"I mean it. No more plotting, no more hints at another attempted takeover. It needs to end. This-this feud…it's becoming ridiculous." The words seemed inadequate and she frowned, flustered by her inability to communicate the extent of her disapproval of the way her father-in-law behaved.

"Fathers and sons…" Lionel mused aloud with a faint smile, "I can't expect you to understand, that history is as long as—"

Something snapped within Lana at this, "You and Lex are not figures in a Euripides play, Mr. Luthor. The Luthors aren't the House of Atreus." The flare of rage flashing through her hardened her resolve, and in that instant she stood a little straighter, squaring her shoulders in grim determination.

He laughed louder this time, delighted. "I'm relieved to discover that even second-rate public schools haven't forsaken the classics." Steepling his hands against his lips he continued to regard her. The crinkles around his eyes should have softened the steely gaze but Lana found that nothing about Lionel was capable of gentling, at least not in her presence.

She took a step closer to the desk, approaching it with a careful, measured pace. "I am not expecting some sort of cloying reconciliation, and I'm certainly not holding my breath for paternal affection—or even commonplace decency." There it was, the anger again, flaring up inside and causing her to lay her palms on the table before him, leaning in slightly as if challenging the man before her. Her eyes narrowed, her lips thinned, and for a moment Lionel could almost imagine someone finding her an intimidating sparring partner.

"No, Mr. Luthor, I'm not the naïve. I simply want a proper end to this imagined rivalry of yours, it needs to stop."

His lips twisted into something ugly. "Such a brave little defender. Standing up for that meek saint of a husband of yours? Do you believe Lex needs you to fight his battles?" He considered her for a moment, the normal flicker of disdain absent from his gaze. For a moment he almost looked shaken but it only lasted for a second and was quickly replaced by a faint smirk. "I have a present for you—for both of you. I never did manage a wedding gift, did I?"

She refused to break eye contact, even as he pressed a thick folder into her hand. Reluctantly, her fingers curved around it, accepting it from him. "What is it?" she asked warily, still not looking down at the object in her hand.

"I think I'll wait for you to unwrap it, my dear," Lionel announced, standing abruptly and sliding easily into the dark jacket hanging from the back of his chair. "You seem like a girl who enjoys surprises."

"This doesn't look like Tiffany's glassware." Lana said slowly, hoping her sudden feelings of unease weren't visible.

"A hackneyed gift like that would never suit my daughter-in-law, would it?" He looked up from buttoning the jacket, enjoying the surprise visible on her delicate features at that appellation. "You're a Luthor now, as my son keeps having to remind me… with all the special privileges that lofty name entails."

A meaningful look at the folder grasped tightly in her hand, a jaunty turn of the head and smile, and Lionel disappeared from the office.


	2. Chapter 2

Another scene that is meant to follow logically from the last. Thanks for your kind words rnelso1 and yes, archive away if you'd like I'm flattered.

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all convictions, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

--W.B. Yeats

The room was silent and for the first time Lana could dimly make out the hum of Lex's laptop and the faint patter of rain against the hard glass of the office windows. The evidence of one of her husband's more curious pastimes burned hotly in her hand, yet she gripped it more tightly. The inconspicuous blue folder shook slightly in her grasp, the shaky moment the only clue to the state of her emotions.

"There will never be children." She announced at last, the declaration no less final because of the soft tone with which it was said. "I could never have the father of my children be a man capable of… of this." The disgust plain in her voice, Lana attempted to raise the folder a few inches closer to him and failed, her hand falling limply back against her thigh.

Lex had his favorite mask on, the calm impervious face he had possessed since he had first walked into the dusty stable all those years ago. It was refined now, seemingly unshakable, and he donned it effortlessly at the first sight of an ambitious competitor or news-hungry reporter. It seemed strange—wrong even, to see it here between the two of them. Try as she might, Lana could detect nothing on his impassive visage as he calmly surveyed her, certainly not the remorse and shame she had expected.

"Alright," Lex finally made out in quietly in an even tone, somehow managing to infuse the commonplace word with an air of gravity.

"If I was stronger, braver I would leave." Lana answered immediately in a tight voice, throwing her head back in the silly, naively arrogant fashion he had not seen since taking her away from Smallville four years ago. In any other context the reminder of her charming teenage imperiousness would have charmed him. As it was he only took in the defiant gesture carefully. Each word, every gesture was weighed and studied by Lex as if the young woman before him was a particularly perplexing chess move that he had to consider with exacting care. Finally, Lana thought she saw a flicker of something human in his eyes as he took a few steps closer to her.

"I wouldn't have you any other way, Lana," He said gently, stopping a foot away from the tense figure of his wife.

She remained staring at him mutely, a bewildering kaleidoscope of emotions shifting constantly within her as she met his gaze evenly. A year as a Luthor had given Lana new reserves of strength in addition to applying a layer of poise and polish over the thin veneer a single summer in Paris had produced in her. No matter how skillful she became at crafting elegant compliments to her husband's business partners or at gracefully turning away the more audacious of the press' questions, Lana rarely managed to employ these skills successfully against her husband. Even now, when she had moral outrage on her side, Lana found it difficult to stand removed and remote from him.

Lex noticed her steely resolve to remain silent and for a moment his confidence was shaken slightly. He glanced down at the folder for the first time and paused, trying to craft his words with care. "I'd think of anyone, you would understand. How many times in Smallville did you come to me, obsessed with the desire to know, determined to discover—"

"This hobby of yours Lex is hardly what I meant." She cut him off, noting with a flash of satisfaction the surprise momentarily apparent on his face at her interjection.

He was quite for a moment, a hint of sadness in his serious eyes. "I _am _sorry, Lana."

"For what you've done to Clark or that I found out about it?" She asked, anger making her enunciation crisp and cutting.

"That I've hurt you. That is something I would never wish to do." A beat and he continued softly, "You know I love you more than anything. You know I would do absolutely anything for you."

She blinked, uncertain. Staring at him, Lana felt a weariness creeping in on her, the first stirrings of resignation. "Yes, I know. But then, you don't love anything else, do you Lex?"

"I did once. I don't have your talent at it, Lana." He had somehow closed the remaining distance between them.

"Your father has done you a great disservice." She said after a moment almost to herself, eyes fixed on his right hand that seemed to hover over her shoulder as if considering resting there. Swallowing, Lana returned her gaze to his face and voiced the fear she knew was unworthy of her in a soft whisper. "Were we--was it… it wasn't only about Clark, was it?"

"No," Lex said quickly and confidently before honesty made him add after a moment, "Perhaps he… colored things a bit, but only at the beginning." His hand finally came to rest lightly on her arm, slowly moving down until he was at her wrist, inches away from the folder.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed softly, her entire posture shifting in a moment from rigid anger to something resembling defeat. Wordlessly, Lana offered up the folder to her husband, relieved when he took it quickly from her outstretched hand. She felt unreasonably comforted to hear the click of the lock on his desk and the steady footfall that told her the document was safely out of sight. A heaviness lay about her heart where it hadn't before. Lex stopped only a few inches away from her and gently touched her arm once more. His fingers were gentle and hesitant this time, the way they were when she first had allowed her to touch him. Lightly trailing down the length of her arm, Lex finally clasped her hand in his. Lana felt something shift inside her as his cool fingers curl around her smaller hand, still sticky from its convulsive grasp on the folder.

She slowly lowered her head to his chest, the last vestige of anger evaporating and leaving only a dull ache of regret in its place. She listened to his heart beating confidently beneath the shell of her ear and willed the memory of a dark-haired boy with gentle eyes and a shy smile to the far recess of her mind. It was a talent she was cultivating, banishing uncomfortable qualms and unsuitable childhood memories to a place where she could safely ignore them.

"You know I could never leave, don't you Lex?" She said suddenly, her eyes opening imperceptibly so she stared into the deep purple of his shirt.

"Yes, I know." His voice answered, a pleasant rumble. She felt the soft breath on her hair as he rested his face on the top of her head. Lana's own arms moved suddenly, snaking around his waist and her fingers dug into the fine cotton of his dress shirt, as if anchoring herself to her husband's larger frame. Her eyes drifted closed again and remained so.

Much later it would strike Lana as strange that innocence should die on the 56th floor of Luthorcorp in the arms of the man she loved.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the so kind reviews! I really appreciate them. I'd like to apologize for all the typos in the last chapter. I never see them until it's been published. I'll fix them but for now, here's a new chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

III.

While she had eventually settled on majors in astronomy and European literature, Lana never completely forsook the artistic interest that had led her to Paris years ago. She looked upon this new creature, Lana Luthor, as she would a particularly intriguing art assignment, a challenge to her taste and attention to aesthetic details.

Mrs. Luthor's hair always hung in a smooth black sheet to her shoulderblades except when it was expertly arranged on her head. Gone forever were pastels and denim, they were replaced by skirt suits that nipped in perfectly at the waist and fit her slim shoulders. Evenings out were her favorite, slipping her bare arm through Lex's and enjoying the sight they made together, the minimalism of her richly hued silk gowns contrasting with the heavy dark suits he wore.

It seemed sometimes that Mrs. Luthor was more of a canvass than a person, but this notion rarely bothered Lana. She was both Galatea and Pygmalion after all, crafting this creation with the exacting care that she had always demanded of herself in artistic endeavors. Still, for all of Lex's subtle appreciation of his young wife's impeccable taste and growing erudition, Lana never doubted he still saw the girl from Smallville when he looked at her. He, and unfortunately his father, were the only ones who still could. The few times her path had crossed with friends from her previous life it was clear they were as fooled by her masterwork as the rest of the world was. Mrs. Lana Luthor was Italian leather heels, manicured nails, and smiles that rarely reached her eyes.

Much was made in the press about the romance of her relationship with Lex. A wide-eyed orphaned girl from a tiny town in Kansas wed to the dashing Luthor scion-- it was enough to make one ill. However, any fantasy they might have been harboring of a golden-haired farmer's daughter with an approachable air and wide smile were put to rest upon actually meeting her. Lana Luthor was charming, but a hard layer existed beneath her easy appeal that was almost as immovable as her husband's. There was Luthor steel beneath all that fine velvet.

It had seemed strange while still in college to date someone like Lex. His latest flashy car waiting with the headlights on to pick her up after night courses, having to explain to bewildered friends why the boyfriend she spoke of bore the name of the grandiose chemistry building on campus. She had long grown inured of their initial disbelief, of the sly remarks and simple envy. If she had gone four years without making any real friends it had never bothered her greatly. Lex had always been there, in a way no one else ever had been. Not Nell, not Chloe, and certainly not Clark.

Flipping listlessly through the international news section of the Daily Planet, Lana mused thoughtfully on the past until a familiar footfall broke her concentration. In her more imaginative moments, Lana was convinced Lex could somehow sense when she was indulging in inappropriate flights of fancies and consciously intruded upon them with something pressing.

"I need to talk to you." Lex informed her briskly, settling himself onto the sofa beside her. She obligingly curled her legs under her to make room, smoothing out the wrinkles that appeared on her silk robe. Her husband was already dressed for work and she had to resist the childish impulse to reach over and undue his perfectly knotted tie.

Smiling at the thought, it took Lana a moment to realize he was looking at her with a trace of impatience. Vaguely curious, she obediently folded the paper and placed it on the coffee table before turning to give him her full attention.

Lex's eyes skimmed briefly over her features and his face relaxed slightly, some of the tension eking away. Lana smiled softly at his familiar reaction to her presence and watched as he reached over for her hand. He toyed with her engagement ring for a moment, pushing the large stone up and down the base of her finger.

"I've decided to run for Richardson's seat." Lex said evenly, his eyes on her face again rather than the ring although he continued to play absently with it.

"Oh." Lana murmured, surprised although she knew she shouldn't be. Since loosing the state senate race years ago she had thought that Lex had finished with politics. If she was the artist, Lex was the architect, skillfully building up his ambition step by carefully planned step. He was always behind the scenes, influencing others with a word, a look, a subtle threat. Lex as politician seemed strange-- having to worry about charming constituents and attending tedious committee meetings hardly seemed suitable.

She knew she should rush to congratulate him, tell Lex what a fine senator he would make, but she couldn't even begin to fathom a suitable response. Insincerity was a talent they both used against the world, but never with each other.

If he noticed her hesitance—and when did Lex's probing eyes miss anything--he didn't appear to mind her reaction. His hand flattened abruptly so it covered all of hers, and Lana was oddly grateful for the reassurance implied in the simple gesture.

"I know it wouldn't be your first choice, Lana."

"I just have trouble imagining myself in the role of senator's wife." She said quietly, her head bowed forward so that her hair partially veiled her face. After a moment she added with a twinge of hardness in her voice, "Or _you_ as a servant, even a public one."

It was the plain truth. Men like Jonathan Kent were meant for that role. Leaders with idealism shining brightly in their eyes and nothing they felt they needed to prove. Pulling her hand away from his Lana rubbed at a smudge of newsprint on her index finger, silently awaiting his response.

Lex didn't seem fazed by this and if Lana had looked up she would have detected an appreciative gleam in his eyes for her last comment.

"There are… rewards for both of us that I assure you are appealing." He answered in a gently amused voice, reaching over to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her face and Lana had to resist the urge to turn her lips to them as they slowly traced the gentle curve of her cheek.

"I appreciate you informing me, Lex," She said coolly, resolutely staring down at her hands folded neatly in her lap so that her face remained in profile to him. A whisper of an unwelcome memory sounded in her mind, the not-so-distant day Lionel Luthor had presented her with an unconventional and unwelcome wedding present. Trying not to dwell on that banished recollection, Lana tilted her hear and finally met her husband's level gaze.

Did she imagine his eyes widening slightly? Was it possible he too remembered at that moment about that late afternoon that she could never entirely forget? Lana blinked at the fanciful notion and when she looked again the flicker of unease was gone and his face bore only a small, reassuring hint of a smile.

"You'll see, Lana. This will be good for me. Good for us." The confidence and affection in his voice was sincere, Lana was sure, but she strangely wished for the trace of something akin to the remorse that had flickered on his features a moment ago.

"Of course," she said, absently twisting the ring on her finger with her thumb. "I'll do whatever I can to help, Lex."

"I never doubted that. I know how lucky I am."

They settled back into a thoughtful silence and Lana calmly considered the task at hand with the same quiet determination that an artist regarded a blank sheet or an untouched slab of marble. The Senator's Wife would be a new figure and demanded a new palette, different tones and different highlights. She ran her fingers through her hair, considering what hairstyle would be best suited to this latest creation that confronted her. Something shorter to make her look older and more sophisticated?

"You'll be perfect, Lana." Lex murmured, breaking the silence and revealing just how well he could read her still. He pulled her gently over to him, hand cupping her face as she kneeled in front of him on the sofa.

_Perfect. _Lana tasted the word with a hint of disfavor, her face inscrutable as Lex's skillful fingers played across her lips.

"Yes, Lex. Perfect."


End file.
